


Seeing Red

by HeartsInJeopardy



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Character Study, Gen, One Shot, Tavern Brawl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23069779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartsInJeopardy/pseuds/HeartsInJeopardy
Summary: “You don’t really know a woman until you’ve shared a drink and a fistfight with her.”
Kudos: 9





	Seeing Red

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short one shot story about an OC taking Uthgerd the Unbroken’s challenge.
> 
> I’m thinking of doing more Skyrim one shots with the same character as writing practice, so if you like this one please let me know.

Despite the roaring crowd beside her, Krulka heard a light tapping sound with unusual clarity. She wiped her split lip and realized with annoyance it had been the chipped top of her right tusk bouncing off the Bannered Mare’s floorboards.

 _That’s just typical_ , she thought. _I keep both my tusks through fights in half of Tamriel’s provinces, just to lose one in a Skyrim tavern brawl._

Krulka pushed herself off the floor, spitting blood at her feet, and turned to face Uthgerd with her arms raised. The tall Nord stood with her shoulders square and legs straight, her balled fists held tight to her chin.

She had already proved her mettle weathering Krulka’s punches and knocking her to the floor with a sharp right. But the Orc noted her opponent’s stiff posture and shuffling gait. Despite suggesting their bare knuckle contest in the first place, it was clear Uthgerd was more comfortable with a sword in hand.

She proved Krulka right with a wary step forward. A blue and yellow striped rug on the tavern’s floor slipped under Uthgerd’s armored boot. She spread her arms to keep from slipping, opening herself up to a stinging left hook.

When Uthgerd crashed on her backside, Krulka’s back foot was already swinging at her jaw. The loud _crack_ of their collision silenced the jeering patrons for a split-second.

Then came the boos.

Krulka shot the crowd a puzzled look. Sinmir, the bearded Nord she had raised a mug with earlier that night, scowled from his place beside the fire pit. “Your hands, she-Orc,” he hissed at Krulka. “ _Just_ the hands!”

 _Menfolk have their petty rules for everything_ , Krulka thought derisively. She would never understand it, no matter how long she lived among them.

If Uthgerd was offended by the breach of etiquette, she didn’t let it show. The warrior rose off the floor without protest, wobbling slightly on her long legs.

Krulka studied her closely as they circled each other in the cramped back half of the tavern. The glow of the room’s fire filtered between the baying patrons lined up to watch them, casting stripes of warm light and shadow on the fighters. Uthgerd had worn the same surly face all night, even before the brawl began. But there was no fear or fury in her green eyes, just a coldness that warned Krulka she meant business.

Krulka darted forward, breaking the distance between them and peppering Uthgerd’s raised arms with punches. The Nord ducked behind her fists, but a few blows slipped through and made her head of braided red hair lurch backward. Krulka pummeled her relentlessly, expecting the Nord to throw up her hands or fall to her knees at any second. Instead, Uthgerd gave Krulka a mighty shove that caught her flat footed.

Arms flailing, Krulka reeled backward and thumped her head off a wardrobe standing against the tavern’s wall. Her vision was still spinning when Uthgerd’s fist slammed her brow, crunching her skull against the wardrobe’s door.

Krulka sank to the floorboards, her chin drooping against her chest and her legs splayed in front of her. She would have been flat on her back without the wardrobe propping her up.

The punch had blacked out Krulka’s mind, except for a distant, hazy voice that harshly repeated, _It’s over. You lost_.

But Uthgerd was not finished.

If she had raised her arms in victory the crowd would have cheered and slapped her on the back. Instead, she stepped away from Krulka and beckoned, waving her up.

“Come on!” she urged, anger creeping into her voice. “Get up and finish this, Orc!”

The other patrons shuffled nervously. The Orc stranger had seemed like a fair match for Uthgerd just a few minutes ago, but they each knew the shield maiden’s reputation. Some of them shared concerned looks, silently wondering if the innocent amusement of their fight had changed into something ugly.

Their dread mounted with every second Krulka struggled to her feet, but none of them dared step between Uthgerd and her opponent to prevent what was coming.

When Uthgerd finally threw a punch, a vicious cross that landed with an echoing _thud_ , Krulka’s response surprised her as much as anyone else.

The Orc took the punch, swayed back on her heels, and clattered Uthgerd with a swinging hook.

Some of the Bannered Mare’s guests had heard of the berserker rage, the propelling anger that had made the Orcs feared warriors all over Tamriel. But seeing it up close in the seething fury on Krulka’s face, and the savagery of her attacks, was enough to make even Sinmir’s cheeks lose their color.

She fell on Uthgerd in a blur of swinging fists, growling like a sabre cat. The Nord crossed her arms in front of her face. Driven backward by the barrage of punches, her boot heel caught in a gap between floorboards and she crashed on her back.

Krulka dropped with her, straddling Uthgerd and belting her with one haymaker after another. Between her toothy scowl and the blood dripping from her battered green face, the sight was enough to make most of the crowd turn away in horror.

Only Sinmir and Olfrid Battleborn could muster the courage to pin Krulka’s arms back. They dragged her off Uthgerd, still snarling and kicking. 

***

The sky over Whiterun was lightening when the tavern’s last few straggling patrons filed out.

They found Uthgerd on the front steps, pressing a rag to her bruised face, and offered words of encouragement before staggering through the shadowy Plain District to their homes.

Krulka waited until the market square was empty before stepping outside, into the dim light of the tavern’s smoldering braziers. She sat next to Uthgerd and set a bottle of mead at her feet, uncorking one of her own.

“Well fought,” Krulka said.

“Well fought,” Uthgerd replied flatly. She picked up her bottle, uncorked it and took a deep draught without glancing Krulka’s way.

“I suppose it’s no comfort, but you nearly had me.”

“Nearly,” Uthgerd agreed.

Krulka stared at the older woman for a long moment, noting her swollen left eye and a dark bruise from where the boot had connected with her jaw.

Feeling Krulka’s gaze, Uthgerd gave her a questioning look. “Is that all?”

“I came out to give you this.”

Krulka pulled a coin purse from the pouch on her belt and held it out with a slight smile.

Uthgerd furrowed her brow, turning to scan Krulka’s face with the uninjured eye on her right side. “Is this some kind of joke?” she demanded.

Krulka raised her free hand in a calming gesture. “No slight meant. I just didn’t take your bet for the money.”

Uthgerd’s stony face regarded Krulka. She turned up her palm and accepted the coin purse.

“So you risked getting your teeth knocked out for the fun of it?” she asked, pocketing the gold. “Or just to put me in my place?”

“Not risked.” Krulka pulled down her puffy lower lip to show off the chipped tusk. She cocked her head and smirked. “Actually, I meant to cheer you up.”

Uthgerd chuckled then winced, rubbing her bruised jaw. “Cheer me up?”

“A woman who hangs around a tavern challenging strangers to fight is probably itching for one,” Krulka observed. “And I know from experience a fight can help clear your head.”

Uthgerd pursed her lips and nodded in agreement. “Liquor helps too,” she said, raising her bottle to her lips.

“I heard your story from Sinmir,” Krulka explained with a serious expression. “About that boy at Jorrvaskr.”

Uthgerd clucked her tongue and shook her head. “Some days I regret blabbing about that to anyone who’ll listen.”

“The way he tells it, they were trying to prove a point about you. All you meant to do was prove them wrong, not kill him.”

Uthgerd nodded, staring down at the steps. “I lost control,” she said in a hushed tone. “The poor brat didn’t deserve to die, but when they put me against him I saw red.”

Krulka exhaled deeply and took a drink from her bottle. “I know what that’s like,” she said. “But you’re not the same person anymore.” She clapped a hand on Uthgerd’s shoulder and the older warrior met her gaze. “You could have flattened me tonight, but instead you let me stand before throwing the next punch.”

“Wisdom usually comes too late for any use,” Uthgerd mused. She smiled faintly. “Like, don’t let an Orc off the floor in a barroom fight.”

They both laughed. “That must be an old Nord adage,” Krulka said.

“We have another one.” Uthgerd picked up her bottle. “‘You don’t really know a woman until you’ve shared a drink and a fistfight with her.’”

Krulka grinned and toasted with her. “I’ll drink to that.”

They each took a long sip then fell into silence, watching the stars overhead and the distant torchlights of patrolling guards.

“Well,” Uthgerd said, standing up and handing Krulka her bottle. “I should get to sleep before the mead wears off and I start to feel this.” She gestured at her face.

Krulka nodded and stood on the steps. “I’m working out of here for the next few days,” she said, pointing over her shoulder at the tavern. “Chasing bounties for the Jarl. If you need work, I’d be glad to have Uthgerd the Unbroken at my side.”

Uthgerd scoffed and shook her head. “That old nickname doesn’t seem fitting anymore, does it?”

Krulka gazed steadily at her. Her dark red eyes were ringed with bruises but kindness still showed through them. “You’ve been through worse,” she said plainly. “I think it’s your spirit that’s unbroken.”

Uthgerd’s wounded face was a blank mask, but she nodded stiffly before turning and marching off toward her home. Krulka shuffled inside the tavern, lightly touching a cut on her cheek and wincing at the shooting pain it caused.

Saadia, the barmaid, was sweeping up among the fire pit's chairs. “You taught her a lesson,” she said cheerily as Krulka passed on the way to the stairs.

 _I might have_ , Krulka thought, _but not with my fists_.

As she settled into her bed upstairs, not bothering to change out of her bloodstained clothes, Krulka made a note to try a drink and encouraging words _before_ a fistfight the next time she wanted to cheer someone up.

**Author's Note:**

> I love feedback, good or bad, so if you made it this far I’d love to hear what you thought.


End file.
